The Begininng
by SportsfanXC
Summary: A story about how the Hunger Games were formed and what happened in the very first one. Rated T cause it's the Hunger Games  but it's more like K
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

**Katerina (District 11):**

I gasp as I see the first bomb fall. Then another. And another. And another. There is seemingly no end to it. Until it ends. One minute the sky was filled with bombs, the next the only thing I can see is smoke.

And District Thirteen is no more.

**-3 months later in the capital-  
><strong>

There is silence as the four men, the four most powerful in all of Panem sit around the table.

"The rebellion is over" starts President Snow.

"There cannot be another" says the man on his right.

"The districts must remember our power" says another.

"And you, Jeran?" Snow says, looking at the one who has said nothing.

Jeran is silent for a moment, contemplating his idea. "They must be punished so they will remember."

"Quite obviously" says the president. "13 is already destroyed. Most rebel leaders have been publicly executed. Those that haven't yet are about to be. So what are you proposing?"

"Give them a reminder every year. Generations from now, they won't remember us killing the leaders of the rebellion." Then Jaren pauses.

"And what should we do to not let them forget?" asks Kimma, the man on Snow's left.

"We punish them every year as a reminder. Publicly torture and execute people from each district." replies Jaren.

"Public torture? Public execution? That's not memorable enough. Sure, people will remember it for a few weeks before and after, but I want something that people will remember all year, and just as their fear starts to lessen, it happens again the next year." says Snow.

"But what could inspire that kind of fear in people?" asks the man on the president's left, Gera.

"We could make them fight against each other, like gladiators" suggests Jaren.

"How could we maximize fear for everyone?" asks the president.

Jaren thinks for a moment, then answers. "The ones that fight would be… the children."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This is my first story here. I hope you like it. The first chapter is kinda short but oh well. I'm ahead right now as I got to chapter 4 in my writing while waiting for the 2 day no stories thing to be over. Anyways please review if you like it! (and if you don't like it tell me how I can improve)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

**Logan (District 2):**

-9 months later-

It was the day. The day everyone had been worrying about. The selection day. Two children, one boyand one girl, between the ages of 12 and 17 would be selected to participate in the first ever "Hunger Games" as the Capitol called them. In short, the purpose of them is to strike fear in the districts, demonstrate the Capitol's power, and to turn kids into gladiators. Oh, and they are apparently going to be entertaining. It sickens me.

The selection chooses who will be the sacrifices, or, as the Capitol calls them, tributes of each districtfor the games. Chances of being chosen increase with age. Each age has to put in one more entry, so twelves have only one entry while seventeens have six. As a sixteen, I have five entries. This makes my chances greater, but with all the hundreds of other kids in District 2, my chances of being chosen are slim, practically nonexistent. Still, someone from Two must be chosen. I pity the one who is.

Hours later, I find myself in the town square next to all of the other sixteens, waiting for the selection. It's not so much selecting who will be in the Hunger Games as much as it is selecting who will die. Selecting who will get their souls reaped. From here on I call this the Reaping. A strange man, obviously from the Capitol, steps up in front of the crowd, and raises his hands to quiet us. We do. Nobody wants to be forced to be a tribute because of something as trivial as talking. Nobody wants to be a tribute. The Capitol tries to make it seem like a great thing, the winner gets eternal glory and endless riches. They will get a rich house in their district, and never have to worry about going back to the Hunger Games ever again. But that is not what happens to the other 23. No, they will suffer a public death, watched by everyone in Panem, which is then replayed countless number of times.

The Capitol also allows "volunteers" to take someone's place as a tribute in the Hunger Games. Like anybody is stupid enough to do that. Anybody that knows the slightest bit of math can tell you that 1 out of 24 is not good odds, especially when the other 23 times you die.

The man reaches inside a hollow ball, where the slips for the girls' names are held inside. He pulls it out and slowly unfolds it. He clears his throat and says "Silena Silversheen!" I look to see who that is. Finally I see a little girl walking to the stage. No, that cannot be possible! She cannot be older than eight! Yet she is. She is thirteen. She cries, because she knows she will die. Thirteens won't stand a chance in the arena. Then the man reaches into the boys' ball, grabs a paper and reads it to us. "Logan Livingstone" he says. I fall to the ground. This cannot be happening to me. He did not just say my name. Yet he did. I know I must rise. If a thirteen girl could walk to the stage I know I must. And I do. I shake Silena's hand, knowing that we will never be able to be this friendly ever again. She refuses to look into my eyes. I pass this off as a look from a scared little girl, but a part of me wonders if the Games have already begun.

We are taken to the station, where we can say our final good byes to our family. I know I will never see mine again. I am strong, but how can I kill? I won't let whatever the Capitol throws at me turn me into somebody that I'm not. I refuse to let it. Only my mother comes to say good bye. My father cannot stand to see me anymore, he tries to erase all memories of me- it will make my certain easier to take. I have no siblings. I am glad for that too, as I wouldn't want any of them to have to go through this.

My good bye said, I step onto the train, and look back to see District 2, my home, for almost certainly the last time in my life.

* * *

><p><strong>Katerina:<strong>

There is nothing left to eat. I will go to the selection with an empty stomach. I am 14, the oldest of four. I'm the only one in my family that is in the selection this year. I hear the winner of the Games gets food for the rest of their lives.

My family needs food desperately. My little sisters get everything we can afford to feed them, but it still is not enough. And for my parents and I, there is only constant starvation. I put on an old dress of my grandmothers for the selection. I'm supposed to dress nicely for this, to show the Capitol that our district still has pride. I don't want to. I would rather wear my ripped pants and shirt. I'm more like myself wearing those. In my dress I feel like a phony, trying to be someone I'm not.

I walk to the reaping. I'm surrounded by thousands of scared kids, crying kids. Nobody wants to be chosen. Except for one. I know what I must do. The boys' name is announced first. Some boy I've never met. I don't know him. I don't know him. Learning his name makes him harder to kill. And I must kill if I want to get home. I never hear the girl's name get called. Because as soon as the speaker's hand is our of the ball, clenching a name, a voice cries out. "I volunteer!" it says.

And that voice is mine.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This was originally two chapters, but seeing as how short it is as one chapter it's probably a good idea that I combined them. **

**Oh, and if you haven't figured out, these are the two main characters. I'm not going to show any of the other reapings, but I may casually refer to them later. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

Logan:

We exit the train. The ride was a dull six hours; there was nothing to do other than watch the other "reapings". Nobody makes an impression on me. They are all frightened, not wanting to be chosen. Actually, there is one girl that leaves an impression, that crazy girl from District 11 that obviously does not understand the games. She volunteered; she deserves to die for her stupidity.

Why would she do that? Does she not realize what she is volunteering for? She must. How could anybody not know what the Games were? So why would she? What was her motive? I ponder this for a time.

First comes the obvious thought: she volunteered to take the place of a sibling. Very noble, to die for them. But something doesn't seem right with this thought. For one, when she volunteered, no one in the crowd cried for her not to. Also, she volunteered too quickly. There wasn't even a chance to hear the chosen's name. It was like she had decided before that she would volunteer. I feel like I'm getting closer.

I must know her motives; knowing her motives will make it easier to understand how she will play the Games. And understanding how she will play will make her easier to predict, and ultimately make me one step closer to home.

So she knew she was going to volunteer, but why? 'Because she thinks she cannot survive unless she wins' I think. But why would she think that? It's not like she has to worry about starvation; district 11 makes the food after all. Or perhaps she does? In 2 the Capitol takes all of our products for themselves, giving us just enough to survive. Maybe all of their food is taken? District 11 is so large, or so I've heard at least, that they need an extremely large amount of food to feed them all. And apparently the Capitol is not giving them enough.

So she is starving. That will make her all the more dangerous. She will be used to hunger, so small amounts of food in the arena will not affect her as much as it will me. She will have an extreme desire to live, because she must have a family back home, most likely with multiple younger siblings.

So what is my motivation? I have no brothers or sisters at home. My father has already written me off as dead. To come back to him would be an inconvenience for him. My mother loves me, wants me back, but when she said good bye she said it like I will never see her again. She has no hopes for me. She does not want to believe I can come back, because she doesn't want her hopes crushed. But I had no hopes before either. I was defeated as soon as I heard my name. But perhaps I have a chance. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

These are my thoughts as I leave the train and step into the District 2 residence that will be my home for the next week. First the opening ceremony (more like a funeral) then 3 days of training, followed by a day of private showing off to the makers of these games, a day to prepare for the interview, then finally the interview itself. And the next day? The next day the Games officially begin.

* * *

><p><strong>Katerina:<strong>

I am here. The Capitol. I will survive. I will return. I will not let the Games turn me into someone I'm not. I will let the stylists change me how they see fit, but I will not let them change who I am.

The stylists rip all the hair off my body. I want to scream, but I don't. I will not give them the satisfaction. I decide from now on I will not speak. Except for the interview. I must speak then. But no more.

They put makeup on my face, heavy amounts, but what can I do about it? If I resist the stylists will just tell the gamemakers, and then I will never get home. No, I let them. Let them change my outside. But they cannot change my inside. I am me. That is unchangeable. But they try. When my stylist finally comes, whose name is meaningless to me, I look like a freak. When he leaves, I look like corn. Corn! These people know nothing of District 11. We don't even grow corn! I see my district partner, Martlin (I had to learn his name), who is a stalk of wheat. At least his stylist fact-checks her work.

We leave our rooms and go to the starting point of the procession. There we find chariots, 12 of them, one for each district. Ours is easy to find. Painted like an orchard, it easily stands out among the others. But I don't want to stand out. I want to slip into the shadows. I want to survive by myself. I don't want to be forced to kill. But I will if I must.

Our mentors, some clueless Capitol people, who are more drunk than sober, tell us to smile and wave to the crowd. They want us to seem happy that we are about to die. But they are wrong. Martlin will die. I will not. I will come home. I will survive. My sisters need me. My parents need me. I am their only hope for survival.

I catch the district 2 boy staring at me from his chariot. I blush, embarrassed to get his attention, but then he shakes his head and turns away. He does not care about me. There are no feelings. He just thinks I'm crazy. For volunteering. But I am not. I know what I came here for, and I will win.

We step onto the chariot. Martlin follows our mentors advice, I do not. I see the other districts on the big screen in front of us. Some seem powerful. Some seem terrified. And some seem indifferent. Then we are shown. There is Martlin, smiling and waving. Then there is me. Staring forward. Scowling. Intense. I am not myself. I did not want to be changed, and by trying not to be, I have been. I am not the same person I was when I left. So quickly the Games have changed me. Even if I get home I will not be the same. I won't be the same on the outside or the inside ever again. I must win to get back at the Capitol for doing this to me.

When the ride is over I don't bother talking to anyone. I just stomp into my room, crawl into bed and cry. And cry. And cry.

I will not die. I will survive. I will come home.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Finally broke the 1,000 words mark without Author's note in this chapter. Please leave some reviews!**


End file.
